


Hot

by grosss



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Belly Kink, Dom/sub, I added that ONE line because you guys are nasty, I'd like to thank milk fic girl for paving the way for all gross bandom fanfics, Is this thing on?, Liquid Bloating, M/M, Sub Gerard Way, This is fairly tame but is absolutely a kink fic so proceed with caution, Top Frank Iero, Van Days, Water, and I knew someone would appreciate it, calm down this isn't deviantart, frank iero - Freeform, gerard way - Freeform, tagging as such for posterity but not really, thank you, there is NO piss at the end you pervs, um, ummm - Freeform, use your imaginations for the ending ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grosss/pseuds/grosss
Summary: ;)





	Hot

**Author's Note:**

> You're welcome
> 
>  I wrote this pretty quickly, it's all in good, kinky fun. 
> 
> That being said, this is written for ADULT consumption only, please, please only read this if you're 18 or over! I mean it.

The summer of 2005 was a scorcher; well, perhaps it wasn't, but Gerard wouldn't have known the difference, being trapped in a van for days at a time with five other dudes. They were currently in the southwestern United States, somewhere in Nevada- or was it Arizona? No, they had crossed the border the previous night. Nevada. The license plates said so. He had simply stopped paying attention. Gerard was well accustomed to the sticky East Coast summers he’d grown up in, used to his clothes clinging to him, the air smelling damp and thick. While it wasn't his first time away from home, he still had trouble adjusting to other regional climates. Dry heat, he thought, was much worse. It felt like hell to his senses, literally- his nostrils burned with each breath, the sun felt relentless with no blanket of humid air surrounding him. At a rest stop along the freeway, he stumbled back into the van, clutching two 20oz water bottles, rolling one across the back of his neck. He had only showered that morning, but couldn't wait to take another. A cold one. He secured his spot in the back of the van, leaning against the a/c vent as they departed. He opened the first bottle, taking a long drink, finally able to breathe properly indoors. He was thirsty, more so than he realized.

Before Gerard knew it, he had drained the bottle, plastic crinkling in his hand. He stopped, catching his breath, wincing a little. His stomach felt heavy and full, customarily tight jeans beginning to dig into his waist. He froze for a moment, a familiar feeling of excitement mixed with shame washing over him. He reached for the second bottle, quickly glancing toward the front of the van. They would think nothing of it. It was hot. It was really, really fucking hot. Halfway through the second bottle he paused again, breathing heavily. His stomach was pressing against his shirt now, larger than before. He wasn’t in the greatest of shape, but he knew it was mostly, if not all, the contents of his stomach. The van hit a pothole and he felt the water slosh inside of him. He stifled a quiet moan, pressing a hand to the front of his shirt. His belt was painful; his jeans were painful, the seatbelt, everything was pressing on him. Gerard tried to sit up, tried to get comfortable. Frank turned around then, having heard him shuffling, and simply raised his eyebrows. His eyes flickered between the half-empty bottle in Gerard’s hand and the rising color on his face. Gerard knew that look- somewhere between a question and a command that he’d seen before, somewhere between  _are you going to finish that?_ and _you’d better finish that_.

They finally came to a stop and Gerard scrambled out of the van, wincing as he jostled his stomach the minute his feet touched ground. He squinted at their lodging for the night, a simple budget hotel along I-80, outside of Reno. It was still too hot. He ducked into the van, shoving boxes of merch and gear to the side until he located his duffel bag in the mess. “God, fuck-” he swore under his breath as a cramp wracked his side. He yanked his bag free, panting a little. Ray tossed him what he assumed was his room key and he hoisted his bag up, carefully making his way to his room. God, it was worse standing up, the inescapable tight feeling.  
He discarded his bag on the floor of the room, grateful for the blast of air conditioning that met him, the cool tile and ugly (yet clean) interior. He stood in the bathroom, flicking the light on, and glanced at himself in the mirror. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, quickly drying indoors. His eyes were vacant, either from exhaustion or arousal, most likely a combination of the two. He caught his breath, watching the rise and fall of his chest beneath his thin black shirt, fabric around the buttons wrinkled from sitting too long. He placed a hand over his stomach, feeling the roundness that wasn’t there before- well, that wasn’t as pronounced before. He was full, there was no doubt about that; what had it been, 40oz? In one sitting? That still sounded like a lot, although he had taken more. There were the donuts. The time at that buffet in Dallas. The ice cream in New Hampshire. His head began to swim and he sat down on the end of the bed, hearing Frank chuckle from the table by the door. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, you know.”  
Gerard waved him away, shaking his head.  
“Are you done checking yourself out?” Gerard didn’t respond and Frank walked over, surveying the damage. He whistled, trailing his fingers over the tightened fabric on Gerard’s shirt. “Forty ounces, Gerard? I’m surprised I didn’t walk in here and find you drinking out of the damn shower nozzle.” Gerard felt himself twitch at the words, face reddening.  
“Arms.” Gerard scrambled to comply, resting his wrists on top of one another behind his back. Frank cupped his belly again, running his fingers down the buttons. “I hope you’re still thirsty, it’s damn hot out there. Wouldn’t want you to get dehydrated.” He procured a plastic grocery bag from the floor near the bed, pulling out a large bottle. It twisted open with a quiet hiss. “Jesus, Frank, is that carbonated?”  
Frank didn’t respond, grabbing Gerard’s hair and tilting his head back slightly. “Go ahead.” Gerard bit his lip, taking the bottle from him and beginning to drink, the rush of carbonation burning his throat and making his eyes water. It was welcome, however; it had been a long day, and he was still thirsty. Halfway through he stopped, gasping for air. He was much too full now, shirt buttons just beginning to strain against his midsection. He gulped at the rest of the bottle, discarding it with a quiet groan, panting. His stomach felt heavy and cumbersome, and he felt the liquid sloshing inside of him with every movement. His bladder was also beginning to bother him, although it wasn’t of much concern at the moment.  
“This is going to give out soon, isn’t it?” He touched his full, rounded stomach, the pale flesh that showed through the gaps where the buttons were strained. “It will if you do something for me.” Frank held up a smaller water bottle, one he must have grabbed at the gas station. Gerard wetted his lips, dry from breathing through his mouth. “I am still kinda thirsty.”


End file.
